


Let Love Sprout Roots

by Adara_Rose



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, False Pregnancy, Hidden Feelings, Implied Mpreg, Love, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Male-Female Friendship, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Edmund of Narnia has never felt more alone in his life, burdened by a secret he cannot share with anyone at Cair Paravel, and it weighs heavily upon him until an unexpected friendship, and source of comfort, changes everything. Dryads. Who'd have thought?`</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Set between "Prince Caspian" and "The Voyage of the Dawn Threader". No romance between Edmund and Olwen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sorrow laid upon him like a thousand secrets

The first time she saw him she was sitting on a rock by the river brushing her hair. It was a favorite pastime of hers, just sit there and let the warm sun shine on her skin. She had sat there all morning, singing to herself, when she saw a man approaching the bank at a rapid pace. It took her a moment to remember that it was called “running”. The man was running. Well, she assumed it was a man since most human men she’d seen had had short hair and those funnily shaped coverings called “trousers”. She put her comb down, stood up, and approached him.

“Hello” she said, as she had learnt that men started conversations that way. He looked up, startled.

“Who-?” He stammered, but she ignored the question as something else seemed more important.

“You’re leaking from your eyes!” She exclaimed, alarmed. “Why are you leaking?” He hurriedly wiped at his eyes and turned his face away.

“It’s called crying” he whispered. “And I’m crying because my heart is broken.” Her heart went out to him, and she did what her sire had always done when she was just a sapling. She put her arms around him.

“I’m sorry” she said. It seemed fitting.

 

Edmund startled in shock as the girl’s arms wrapped around him and her soft cheek pressed against his own, wet one. But then he hesitantly put his arms around her. It felt so good to be held for once. It had been very long since anyone but Lucy held him like this, but he and Lucy didn’t talk much these days. Being King and Queen took time away from such things. But he needed to be comforted right now, even if the comforter was a woman he had never seen before and did not know the name of. Well, to be fair, she wasn’t a woman. The slightly green tint to her skin (and the distinct lack of clothing) was a dead giveaway that the female in his arms was a dryad. They stood still and silent for many, many long minutes, just holding each other there in the little grove by the river. Then she spoke again.

“My name is Olwen” she said. “What’s yours?” Her eyes were as green as a newly sprung leaf on a tree.

“Edmund. My name is Edmund.” She smiled, all white teeth and dimples.

“Hello, Edmund.”

“Hello, Olwen.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Would you like to be my friend?” Olwen asked. “You look like you could use a friend.”

“Yes” Edmund replied, softly. “I could really use a friend." 

 

+++

 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly he was spending every day in the woods with Olwen. Running, laughing, eating berries, climbing trees, bathing in the river. Anything, really, just being together. She could make him laugh even when he wanted to huddle under the nearest tree, cry, and never rise again. She could make him smile through his pain and forget his heartbreak, even if just for a few hours. To say goodbye to her in the evenings always saddened him, for it meant he had to return to Cair Paravel and the court, where the rumours flew about the solemn King Edmund’s adventures in the woods. Everyone had a theory, an idea, and it seemed as if they were all completely focused on him. Some said he was wandering aimlessly, some said he had a lover (of either sex), some said he had several. One or two posed the idea that he was partaking in wild orgies in the wood every day. When he told Olwen, she had laughed so hard she fell of the stone she was sitting on. Once she’d stopped, she’d asked what an orgy was and his explanation set her off again. They had laughed at everything and nothing that afternoon.

As Edmund sat at the end of the High Table, next to Peter, he found himself sneaking longing looks at the one who owned his heart and at the same time he wished Olwen was there. She would distract him with her curious questions about men and the items all around her. He snorted with laughter when he remembered her putting a bowl meant for soup on her head and parading around their glen like a newly-crowned queen. She had been completely bewildered as to why he was laughing until he managed to get himself under control and explain what the bowl really was meant for. Edmund choked on his wine in his mirth and Peter banged him several times on the back, slightly harder than necessary. He coughed and spluttered for several minutes.

“What’s gotten into you, brother?” Peter asked, amused. “It must be a very funny joke! Do share it with us, please!” Edmund shook his head.

“I am afraid I was laughing at a memory, Pete. You wouldn’t understand.” He looked down at his plate, still smiling helplessly. He was already looking forward to meeting Olwen in the morning: he had promised they would go swimming again, and this time he would make sure she could not surprise him and pull him under. Maybe he would bring another picnic basket, and teaching her more about the sort of food he was used to eating. Olwen was endlessly amazed at the food being cooked, and had proven to have a sweet tooth. But that was hardly surprising, as she was raised on roots and leaves, mushrooms and berries and rain water. He made a mental note to bring a bottle of wine; if she was funny usually, she’d most likely prove herself hilarious when she was slightly tipsy. The thought of an inebriated Olwen was simply too much for Edmund and his until then barely restrained mirth broke lose. He hid his face behind his hand and laughed so hard his shoulders shook, much to Peter’s confusion. Lost in the thoughts of his little friend with the long, earth-colored hair waiting for him in the woods, he did not see Caspian frowning at his joy.

 

+++

 

That night, as Edmund undressed for bed, he wondered what Olwen would make of his chambers. She would be curious, of course, and he found himself wanting to invite her here. Show her all his belongings, and see how she reacted to things that to him were completely obvious. He remembered seeing her combing her hair with a piece of sharpened wood, and wondered how she’d react to a brush. He put his own aside to take out to her in the morning. That was when his door opened and someone came in without knocking. Edmund turned to admonish whoever it was, but found himself face to face with Caspian and all words died in his throat. The Narnian’s eyes were flashing with temper, and to Edmund he had never been more irresistible than he was at that moment.

“There is talk about you” he said hotly.

“Good evening, Edmund” Edmund replied dryly, “I’m sorry for barging in so late. That’s quite alright, Caspian, what is on your mind?”

“This is no time to be joking!” The man said indignantly. Edmund sighed deeply.

“Why are you here, Caspian? So there is talk. People talk all the time, you know this. It’s what they do.”  
“Not about you, they don’t!”

“I know” he sighed deeply. “But I can comfort you with saying that I do not have a lover of either sex, nor do i participated in wild orgies with multiple partners. No group of soldiers have had their way with me, nor am I cavorting with the pretty dryads of the forest.”

“Then why are you out there all day, every day?” Caspian asked, seemingly having calmed down a little.

“I am spending time with a dear friend” Edmund said, not wanting to say any more. He turned his back in a signal to the other man to leave his bedchamber, but Caspian would have none of it. He pressed close to Edmund’s back, letting his hands run down his body.

“A dear friend, hm? Is she pretty?” Edmund gasped as Caspian’s hand slid under his shirt.

“She is… very pretty. But I’m not… ah…. interested in her.” He sighed as Caspian kissed his neck. “Please don’t.” He begged.

“Why not? You want this as much as I do.” Caspian’s mouth made Edmund’s skin throb with want.

“You know I want more than this” He tried to conceal his sadness but it was clear in his voice. Caspian paused for a mere moment, then continued kissing and nibbling at his neck.

“Let’s go to bed” he said, completely ignoring what Edmund had just said. And Edmund, God help him, was as always unable to deny him. They fell onto the bed, seeking pleasure in each other, and the night passed in a fog of lust and passion.

When Edmund woke alone in the morning, aching in ways he knew well, he was not surprised to find himself alone. Nor was he surprised to find himself weeping.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this part:
> 
> Heather Dale - Lady of the Lake  
> Sting - My funny friend  
> Annie (broadway soundtrack) - Tomorrow


	2. It takes a forest

Olwen knew the moment she saw Edmund that morning that something had happened, but she did not know what. So she did what she did often and he seemed to appreciate: she hugged him. He sagged into her slender arms, and the moment they closed around him he started weeping. Olwen was both confused and heartbroken at seeing his pain, but she rocked him slowly and crooned to him like she remembered her mother doing when she was a sapling. Eventually the torrent of tears stopped and she pulled him down to the ground and into her embrace. Thus settled against one of her favorite aunt’s steady trunk, Edmund nestled in her arms, she coaxed the entire story from him. And what a story it was. He told her about loving Caspian, lying with him, keeping it a secret and acting as if nothing was going on while Caspian paraded around the castle like the King he was, usually with Queen Susan on his arm. And if not Queen Susan, it would be some other pretty woman. He cried throughout his story, and then he told her the worst part of all. He was - much to his own shock as he had been pretty sure such a thing was impossible - pregnant, confirmed as of that morning. Pregnant with Caspian’s bastard. Olwen was completely bewildered, but she waited patiently until his weeping subsided before asking her questions. One - what did it mean to be pregnant?, and Two - what was a bastard?. Edmund laughed wetly, but did his best to explain to her what it meant. Once he had finished his rather garbled explanation, Olwen cocked her head to the side.

“You men are such funny creatures” she said. “A sapling is a good thing, no matter where the seed came from!” She shook her head in amazement over man’s stupidity. “A sapling that takes root in the soil is loved and nurtured and watched over by the entire forest” she went on, “everyone is needed to ensure that she grows up to a good, strong tree.”

“it doesn’t quite work that way in my world” he whispered, looking down at his still flat belly as if trying to see the child inside. Then he went on, “and I am not sure… that I can… do this.” Olwen looked even more bewildered.

“Is something wrong with the soil?” She asked, deeply concerned. “A sapling needs good, rich soil in order to take root.” Edmund stared at her for a long while, but she just waited expectantly for him to continue. Finally he spoke.

“That’s… exactly what I am afraid of. That the… soil is unsuitable.” Olwen looked at him like he had just said the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

“Replant it then” she said, as if that solved anything. “Move it to better soil.” Edmund gaped.

“I hate to break it to you, Olwen, but it doesn’t quite work that way.”

“How does it work, then?” She demanded. But he had no answer to give her.

 

+++

 

Olwen might not know anything about human anatomy, but her words had struck a cord in Edmund and left him no peace. Replant it, she had said. He toyed with the idea: what if he could just… move the child growing in him into someone else? Someone who wanted a baby, who would welcome and treasure the child and not dread anyone finding out. Someone who would not shut themselves away like a hermit in the quarters and flee to the forest as soon as possible every day, coming home as late as possible and ordering dinner up to their room, night after night. Someone who wasn’t him. It would be better for everyone, surely. But at the same time… Oh, Aslan, the thought of giving up his baby was like a knife in his heart. This child was all he truly had of Caspian. And yet… if he were to keep the child, and face the shame of being a single father, what then? He could never tell anyone who had fathered the child, and one day he would most likely be required to return to England with his siblings. They had been in Narnia for nearly two years, after all. Soon his time there would be over, and he would be made to leave. Would Aslan make him leave his child behind? Most likely. His child was narnian, not human. And even if he got to take his child back, how would the child react to the journey? Besides, back in England he was still a child himself. How could he possibly care for a baby when he was still a child, himself. But still…

Edmund sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. He wished more than ever that he dared confide in his brother; surely Peter would know what he ought to do. But, if he told Peter the other man would immediately go confront Caspian and most likely challenge him to a duel to defend Edmund’s honor, and that simply could not happen. No one must know, especially not Susan who was clearly in love with Caspian who seemed to be smitten with her, much to Edmund’s sorrow.  

 

+++

 

It was, eventually, Olwen who came up with a solution to the problem.

“There are witches in the forest” she said one summer morning about three months after they had first met, two months after he told her he was pregnant. She was sitting cross-legged under a tree and making a daisy chain. Edmund turned his head and looked at her where he lay sprawled in the green grass, cloud-gazing.

“So there are” he confirmed, slightly puzzled. “Why, what are you thinking?”

“Just that if you are worried about your sapling, surely they can check that the soil is good and suitable. And if it is not, maybe they know where we should plant it instead.” She held up the completed chain, looked at it critically, and added another daisy. Edmund laughed softly. She might phrase it oddly, but she had a good point. Maybe a witch could help him. He climbed to his feet slowly and with great care, as moving too quickly was a sure-fire way to make him throw up. He wobbled just a little, momentarily light-headed, but it passed quickly. He gestured to Olwen.

“Let’s go find these witches, then” he said. Olwen stood up slowly, still focused on the daisy chain. Her quick fingers twisted it into a wreath with ease and then placed it on Edmund’s head. It immediately slipped down over one eye, and he could not help but smile as he pushed it back.   
“Yes” Olwen agreed, “let’s go see the witches.”

 

They walked for at least an hour, but Olwen kept insisting that she knew the way and that they were close. Edmund had a hard time believing her, as she had said that they were “close” several times over. But finally they arrived at a larger glen in the wood, where three little cottages with thatched roofs were built close together. Olwen walked up to one of them, the one who had smoke coming out of the chimney, and opened the door. She walked inside, without waiting for Edmund, who hastily wiped his boots free from mud and checked his trousers and shirt weren’t too grass stained. Then he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

 

“King Edmund” the elderly woman by the cauldron said and gave him a gap-toothed smile, “I ‘ave been waitin’ fer ya.”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. Them birds told old Moira ye were on yar way ‘our ‘go. Tho t’be fair, was ‘xpectin’ ya las’ week.”

She wiped her hands on her worn apron and came forward to shake his hand. Her eyes were a sharp, bright blue and they seemed to look straight through him as he bowed and kissed her hand.

“Oh psh, no need to curtsy old Moira so” she said, sounding distinctly amused. “Yer in trouble, ain’t ya, boy? ‘S why my lil’ tree ‘ere took you ‘ere.”

“Yes, I am. And… you know Olwen?”

“Know her? Water’d her, Moira did, when she was li’l more than a saplin’. Play’d with ‘er and learn’d ta sing. Knows all the dryads, Moira does.” Olwen smiled happily where she sat on a neat little chair. Moira served them tea and cake that tasted sweet and tart of berries and honey, and Edmund slowly relaxed.

“So” Moira said, as she poured him a second cup of tea, “Got yerself knocked up, did ya boy? Not too bright, hm?” Edmund looked down into his tea cup, feeling ashamed and very, very young.

“No” he whispered.

“Ain’t built for it either” Moira went on. “Boys ain’t supposed to carry. Put ya in yer grave, it will.” Edmund and Olwen both paled.

“Grave?” Olwen cried, “that’s what happens when humans are struck by lightning, right?”

“A’most right, saplin’. ’S when humans die, like when yer poor mother was struck by lightnin’.” Moira looked at them both.

“Can fix that, Moira can. Replant the lil’un.” Edmund looked at her, eyes full of hope.

“Where to?” He asked, voice trembling.

“Got a perfectly good womb here, boy.” Then they both looked at Olwen who was happily drawing an oak leaf in the tea she had just poured out on the table, completely oblivious to their conversation.

“All y’need t’ do’s ask ‘er.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this part:
> 
> Heather Dale - Culhwch and Olwen  
> Switchfoot - This is Home


	3. who once had the heart of mine

When Edmund returned to Cair Paravel that night, for the first time he did not return alone. In his company was a young dryad with long brown hair, wearing a dress that fit her slim body ill. It was clearly made for a much larger, rounder woman. But It was the only dress Moira had had that at all stayed on Olwen’s slim form, so it would simply have to do. Besides, considering the time it took to convince Olwen to wear anything at all, Edmund did not really care what she was wearing. He was too full of gratitude to one of the most generous people he had met in his whole life. Olwen, lovely Olwen, who had agreed to carry his child to term - and not only that, but to return with him to Cair Paravel and marry him. Well, she had agreed after Edmund had explained to her what it meant to be “married” and Moira had explained what it meant to be “pregnant” and what it entailed to give birth. His little Olwen, so brave and selfless, what had he ever done to deserve her?

 

Moira had used her magic to transfer the baby from Edmund’s body to Olwen’s, then she had explained to them how Olwen would be able to live a healthy, safe life away from the forest. They had with them a branch cut from Olwen’s tree, and they were to plant it in the courtyard where they were to water it every day for a week with a potion they had been given. It would then grow to a good, strong tree that Olwen was to visit every day. They had been carefully instructed that Olwen must go to the tree every day, break off a leaf and wear it all day against her skin. No one else might do it for her; it had to be done with her own hands.

 

Edmund had a death grip on Olwen’s hand as they entered the courtyard, In the other, he held the pot with the branch from her tree. Olwen was exclaiming and pointing at everything she saw, as excited as a child on Christmas, her face alight with excitement. She kept asking what things were called and how they worked until his head positively spun and he felt great sympathy for the man with the blind wife whom God blessed and made seeing again in the story his mother had read when he was little. Every question he answered was followed by at least three more, and finally he begged off answering. He promised to teach her later, but for now he would advise that they went to dinner as he needed to introduce her to the court anyway. This statement prompted a long explanation what a court was, telling her about his brother and sisters, describing their features and explaining how she should greet them so as “not to look silly” as she put it.

 

+++

 

It felt as if every single pair of eyes in the entire DIning Hall was centered on him where he stood in the doorway, holding Olwen’s hand. It made him feel terribly uncomfortable and to be fair his instincts were telling him to run back to his rooms and hole up there for a few months, preferably forever, but he felt as if he owed Olwen to stand proud by her side, to treat her like the Queen he was going to make her. She deserved a husband who was proud to call her wife, who cared for her and the child she was carrying. He straightened his back and met the curious gazes head on, not letting as much as a muscle reveal how nervous he was. But there was one gaze he could not meet; Caspian’s. Instead he looked at his sisters, who both seemed amused, and Peter, who showed naught but surprise. Olwen squeezed his hand briefly as a way of comforting him, and Edmund forced his feet to move through the hall. Olwen walked next to him, surprisingly silent and docile, and he felt impossibly grateful to her for that. He turned his head and gave her a nervous smile that she returned in the same way. Then they stood before the High Table and he could no longer avoid looking at Caspian.

“Your Majesties” He said, and in the stunned silence his voice reached even the furthest part of the hall. “This is Olwen of the Birch, dryad of the woods. She is also the woman who is to be my bride.” The silence, which ad been stunned, intensified until it was so tense you could cut it with a knife. No one said anything, not even Olwen, who seemed to shrink at Edmund’s side as everyone looked at her. She tugged at the dress she was wearing and would not raise her gaze from the floor. The silence dragged on, and Edmund felt sick to his stomach.

Then finally Lucy, bless her generous heart, stood up and rounded the table so that she could embrace Olwen.

“Welcome, tree-born sister” she said, smiling. “Edmund is a lucky man.” Olwen beamed at her.

“Yes” she said in the simple way that Edmund knew so well. “He is.” Someone laughed, and the tense silence was broken as the men and women in the hall called their encouragement and congratulations to Edmund for having caught such a lovely creature. Even Peter cheered and congratulated him, and Susan who did not want to be outdone by Lucy hugged Olwen and welcomed her to the family. In his relief that they were accepted, Edmund did not notice that Caspian was unusually silent.

 

+++

 

And so time passed and summer turned into fall, the beginning of Autumn marked by Edmund and Olwen’s wedding. It was the first true day of Autumn, when the air was crisp and clear and the trees had just started to shift in gold and red. They wedded in the courtyard, in the shadow of the tree they had planted on her first day in Cair Paravel. It was the same tree that they had watered every day for a week with a magic potion that made it grow into a mighty tree, with a trunk wider than Olwen’s waist, even at six months pregnant. All present agree that the bride was stunningly beautiful in her green gown embroidered with leaves and flowers, even the dryads who had come in dozens from the forest to see their little sister marry the human she had chosen. They were a little confused as to why there ceremony was needed as they did not do such things, but accepted that the narnians had traditions different from their own. They hugged and kissed their sister, wished her luck, reminded her of how to properly care for a sprout so that it would grow into a sapling, and sang to the newlyweds. It was a feast that lasted for two days throughout Narnia, everyone celebrating that King Edmund had taken a wife and that they were expecting their child the same winter.

 

Edmund was flushed with wine and dancing and happiness, out of breath after having twirled several laughing dryads across the dance floor, when Caspian cornered him by the punch bowl.

“You lied to me.” he said as a way of greeting.

“And how do you figure that I did that?” Edmund asked, helping himself to another goblet of the fruity and highly alcoholic punch.

“Olwen is six months pregnant. You were screwing her in the woods, weren’t you? You told me that there was nothing going on!” Edmund stared at the man who had avoided him like the plague ever since he announced his intent to marry, only speaking to him when required. He thought of all the nights he had cried himself to sleep in Olwen’s arms, of the pain and heartache and humiliation and fear. He thought of the child making Olwen’s belly swell, the child that wasn’t hers but that she was willing to raise and love as hers anyway. And he got angry, for the first time honestly angry at Caspian.

“How dare you” He hissed as he dragged Caspian out onto the balcony so as not to be overheard. “How dare you accuse me of being a liar! You of all people! You who treated me like your whore, good for a fuck in the dark but not good enough to be acknowledge in the daytime. You, who rubbed your conquests in my face even knowing that i loved you, who humiliated and hurt me over and over again because you could not possibly marry a man.” Caspian opened his mouth to say something, but one icy glare from Edmund made him close his mouth again. “Then you blame me and accuse me, treating me even worse when I have finally had enough and move on with my life! How dare you act like the betrayed lover when it was you who betrayed me, over and over again!” He stopped there, breathing heavily, not wanting to cause any more damage. No matter what happened, his heart was still Caspian’s and he ached with the knowledge that he would not raise his child with him. That it would be Olwen who would sing lullabies and play and hug and kiss his child. Not Caspian. Caspian, who was blinking rapidly as if trying to keep tears at bay, opening and closing his mouth several times before he could speak.

“I love you, Edmund” he finally whispered. Edmund looked at him sadly.

“I don’t believe you” he said, as quietly as Caspian’s confession. Then he turned his back and returned to the party. He desperately needed to hug his wife.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this part: 
> 
> Heather Dale - As I Am  
> Loreena McKennitt - The Seeds of Love  
> Pam Tillis - Let That Pony Run


	4. Let steeple bells be swungen

The first princess at Cair Paravel was born during a snow storm that howled around the castle walls with a fury that was almost alarming, but Edmund did not notice it at all as he paced the corridor outside the birthing chamber. The only sound he was really aware of was Olwen’s cries as she labored to bring his child into the world, and each scream tore at his heart. His brave little Olwen, he felt so ashamed for doing this to her. Thank Aslan that she had Moira and her two sisters there to help her; Olwen had been frightened when the birthing pains started, but the witches had calmed and soothed her much better than Edmund ever could. Then they had thrown him out of the room and told him to stay out until it was finished. That had led to his current predicament; pacing incessantly up and down the corridor, wearing down the elegant rug with his leather boots. Lucy, Susan and Peter had retired to bed hours ago but Edmund knew that he would not be able to rest until it was over and he could see Olwen, so now he was all alone with his worry and anxiety. It was at this point in time Caspian showed up.

“I thought I’d wait with you” he said quietly, and Edmund felt the impossible urge to just collapse into his arms. He still loved Caspian with all he was, and he was infinitely grateful to Olwen for understanding and accepting that. But to rest in Caspian’s arms while she suffered? No, it was unthinkable. And yet… he had not been in Caspian’s arms for so very long, and he had missed him so badly… He thought of Olwen, and what she would say if she saw him now. No, he knew what she would say. “Kiss him, silly.” So Edmund did. He kissed Caspian with all the passion in his heart, all the love in his soul, and somehow that lit a fire that had been smoldering between them since they met; one kiss became two, became three, and then Caspian was pulling him into an adjacent room and his clothes were falling to the floor. How could something that was so wrong feel so right?

 

Edmund entered the birthing chamber with rumpled clothes, still leaking slightly from earlier activities, shame burning on his cheeks. Olwen lay in the bed, her sweat-matted hair spread out about her and a babe suckling at her breast. She was looking down at the child with a facial expression Edmund knew well at this point and found absolutely adorable on his wife: a look of complete bewilderment. She looked up at him.

“I had a sapling” she said. “I think she’s human.” Edmund laughed softly as he gingerly sat down on the bed, leaning forward to see the child properly. The baby was rather squished and red, with a scrunched up nose and a tuft of black hair. He had never seen anything as beautiful in his life.

“Thank you, Olwen Pevensie.  I love you.” he whispered, smiling at the woman who was his best friend, as dear to him as his sisters. She smiled back at him, a beaming happy smile full of dimples.

“And we love you” she said, “Gloria and I.” He laid down carefully next to them, gazing in wonder at the marvellous sight in front of him as, in the distance, he could hear the castle bells ring to tell the people that a princess had been born.

 

+++

 

Gloria proved to be a combination of dryad and human, in that she to her appearance was completely human with her rosy skin, dark hair and blue eyes, but she grew as quickly as a dryad and by her second summer she was both running and talking, much to her parent’s delight. The summer was bright and warm, and princess Gloria was an endless source of joy and happiness to her father, who always had time to play or sing or tell stories. He spent all the time he could with the child, and they were utterly devoted to each other. That was why it felt as if Edmund’s heart was splitting in two when Caspian announced the plan to journey on the Dawn Threader to the Outer Isles. He knew that he was to go with him, he and all his siblings. But oh, how he wanted to stay with his family! He raved and ranted, cursed and begged to be allowed to stay, but in the end it was, unsurprisingly, Olwen who convinced him to go.

“The lion told me you must go” she whispered into his shoulder as he held her close. There was no arguing with that, and so Edmund kissed her and Gloria goodbye and boarded the ship.

 

Many months later, as summer once again faded into autumn, the Dawn Treader returned to the joy of the people. The pier was crowded nearly to overflowing with people wanting to greet the heroes, returned at last. But Olwen was not among them; she stayed behind in the castle with her daughter. She was not there to greet King Caspian or the Star Daughter, and she would not be at their wedding or see their son born. For Olwen had known, the moment she heard that King Caspian was bringing back a woman that he was very much in love with, that she was now a widow. Edmund would not have been able to bear the sight. The few servants who had stayed behind at the castle would later tell of how the great Aslan had come to Cair Paravel and spoken to Queen Olwen in the garden King Edmund had planted for her that first spring, and that she had climbed onto his back, the little princess in her arms, as Aslan bore them both back to the forest from which Olwen had come once.

“Will we ever see him again?” she had been overheard asking as the lion carried her away.

“One day, child. When the story ends.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:
> 
> Dumbo Soundtrack - Baby Mine  
> Celtic Woman - Ding Dong Merrily on High  
> Ted Gärdestad - Låt Kärleken Slå Rot (Let Love Sprout Roots)

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack for this part:
> 
> Heather Dale - Culhwch and Olwen  
> Switchfoot - This is Home


End file.
